"Shut up and listen! We've won a 50 inch flat screen TV. We have to go to the car dealership to collect it." I could hear the phone handset creak as she squeezed it in coffee-induced rage or possibly excitement. Over the years I've sort of lost the ability to tell the difference to be honest.

"The car dealership is going to give us a giant flat screen TV?" I marveled. "I don't think so. They argued for twenty minutes before topping off your windshield washer fluid on your last visit, and that was part of the service you paid for.

"I'm holding the paper right here in my hand", she countered. "Our names and address are written under 'WINNER' in big red letters right next to a picture of the TV that we have won. It also says in black and white, well white and a sort of sea-blue color, and I quote: "You are the winner of this magnificent prize!"

"It says 'and I quote'?"

"Of course not, idiot! I was quoting what was wrote".

"I don't think so", I said.

"I. READ. IT. FROM. THE. CARD." I could hear the block capitals crackling down the wires. Also a few too many full stops.

"No, not that. I don't think we've won a telly. What does the small print say?"

"There is no small print", she growled.

"There's always small print", I confidently riposted.

"Who's the paralegal? I think I'd see small print if there was any since I've been over the card with a fine tooth comb. No small print. We have won a flat screen television."

"Prediction: No, we haven't. Try going over the card with a magnifying glass. Hair care implements are rarely helpful in these cases."

"I'm going over to the dealership right now, where I shall take delivery of one (1) flat screen television nominally sized at 50 inches diagonal width."

"Wasted trip. Why would anyone give us a TV gratis?"

"Kindness!" she snapped.

"Kindness? In New York? In the 21st century? Aimed at us?" I was bewildered why the woman had been taken in by this obvious scam. Normally she sees this sort of nonsense coming a mile off. It's been years since I managed to pull the wool over her eyes myself.

"I'm not going to talk to you any more. I am going to get my television. You aren't allowed to watch it. Goodbye."

I pondered for a few moments on the problem of where we would put such a huge thing in our cereal box sized hovel, then got back to work.

I arrived home to find the Stevieling busy composing a Garage Band opus1 and Mrs Stevie glaring at our superannuated Phillips Magnavox 27 inch CRT telly.

"So, where's our new television?" I said, rubbing my hands together at the thought of 1080p visuals dans Chateau Stevie.

"It was a scam", snarled Mrs Stevie. "There was no television, just a slimy car salesman who cheated me out of my television."

"Never mind", I said.

"Tell him about the coin", chipped in the Stevieling.

"Here", said Mrs Stevie, tossing me a silver dollar-sized coin in a plastic coin protector. "They said I won this instead of the TV."

I looked at the coin. The head on the obverse had none of the sharpness of a properly minted coin. It looked like a copy of one made from a poorly done rubbing. The coin itself was too small for the case, rattling around inside just like a real coin doesn't. To top it off the motto on the other side read In God We Trust Copy. Rarely have I had such a poorly made piece of junk in my hand. It had pretensions of being a "replica" of a gold $50 piece.

In the same way as a bar of Cadbury's Old Jamaica has pretensions of getting you squiffy at Christmas. Indeed, as I read the word "gold" on the coin I distinctly heard Long John Silverish say "Laced with Jamaica Rum flavor" in my mind's ear.

Today Mrs Stevie called me up to call me names. When she paused for breath I said "pity about the TV", whereupon she gleefully announced she had denounced the car dealership on Yelp. This appears to be a website on which to complain about things.